A Dozen Shots
by Darlin24
Summary: "When you're a cop there's a fine line between being dirty and being effective" What if Bernhart crossed that line? Set during the Bank Job- what might have happened if Bernhart really shot Kensi instead of just pretending to do so? Some H/C w/ Sam&Callen
1. Chapter 1

**Title****: A Dozen Shots**

**Rating****: T; for violence and language**

**Spoilers:**** 1x1 Identity, 1x13 Missing, 1x14 LD50, and 1x15 The Bank Job**

**Disclaimer****: I do not own NCIS: LA or the above mentioned episodes… sadly. **

**Summary****: "When you're a cop there's a fine line between being dirty and being effective." What if Bernhart crossed that line? What if he was in on it from the beginning? Set during The Bank Job- what might have happened if Bernhart **_**really**_** shot Kensi instead of just pretending to do so?**

**Just to Jog Your Memory****: Mike Renko is speaking (in the quote above) to Callen and Sam in episode 1x15 The Bank Job. He's discussing LAPD Detective Matt Bernhart (no idea how to spell that!) being a part of their case/mission because he had busted Damien Salerno eight years previously. Renko assures them that while Bernhart walks outside the lines occasionally, he gets good results and is trustworthy. So Callen, Sam, and Bernhart take on the personas of the bank robbers, etc. etc. You know where it goes from there…**

**/**

"Nobody move!" Bernhart yelled as he, Callen and Renko entered Certified National Bank. Gunshots rang out as they shot at the ceiling. Kensi turned around, trying to quell her anxiety. She knew that the majority of this op was up to her, at least initially. If she couldn't fake being shot well enough, then the rest of the op was blown to hell.

Kensi watched him fake-punch the LAPD officer posing as bank security. The officer fell convincingly and Kensi took in a deep breath, telling herself that things were off to a good start. All she had to do was put on a hurt look and fall… easy, right?

"Behind the counter! Let me see your hands! The rest of you _on the ground_!" Bernhart demanded, perfectly in character. He continued, "Get on the ground! Now! Get down, _now!_" Naturally, everyone complied without a fight. Kensi dropped to the ground as well, slowly moving toward Bernhart who had his back turned. _Here goes nothing_, she thought.

Kensi snapped her legs out and kicked Bernhart off of his feet. In the next second she was on her feet, gun drawn. "Federal Agent! Drop your weapons!" she commanded. It felt weird pointing her fully loaded SIG at Renko and Callen, but she didn't show it.

As planned, Bernhart kicked up and hit her hand causing her weapon to fly, skittering across the floor. He stood and grabbed her from behind. They grappled in what was a very believable fight (they hoped) and she succeeded in pulling off his ski mask. Her elbow connected with his face a little harder than she'd intended and she jumped from his hold. She spun to face him just in time to see his fist coming at her face.

When he hit her, she knew from the force alone that he wasn't acting. In that moment, she knew something was terribly wrong. He'd punched her like she was an enemy. She didn't figure Bernhart to be the kind of man who would hit her hard just because she'd hit him hard on accident. There was no time to think about that now however. He was still in character and she should be too. He went for his gun as she scrambled to her feet. He pointed the weapon directly at her and she slowly raised her hands as if in surrender.

"Johnny, No!" Callen yelled. "Johnny, _NO!_"

"Please don't," Kensi begged, almost in a whisper. Within the same second, Bernhart pulled the trigger five times in quick succession.

Pain. Pain beyond anything she'd ever felt. It wasn't the slight pressure she was supposed to feel from the blanks. It was white-hot, excruciating agony. Then there was the blood. There was a lot of _real_ blood, not just the fake blood from the packets she had concealed under her shirt and in her jacket, although the fake blood had exploded when the bullets ripped through her abdomen. It wasn't an act when she fell to the floor, her face displaying a lot of true pain.

Callen and Renko exchanged fast side glances that clearly said they were impressed with Kensi's phenomenal acting job. If it weren't for the fact that they knew she was faking, they'd already be on the phone with 911, calling for an ambulance. Back at ops, Hetty, Eric, and Nate were still with shock. They'd all expected Kensi to do a good job faking that she'd been shot, but this was Oscar-worthy.

Distantly, Kensi was aware of people crying and screaming. Through the intense pain, she knew that Bernhart would be reaching for his ski mask and he, Callen and Renko would be herding the bank staff to the back of the building. She heard Callen (or was it Renko? She couldn't be sure) say something, and then the movement of feet.

Kensi briefly had the clarity of mind to whisper, "Sam, I'm down," before the pain became too much and she returned to lying on the ground in silent suffering. She was really screwed right now. Everyone thought she was pretending to hurt when in reality she'd just been shot as many times as Callen had been in May. She could easily bleed out and die, right here.

One of the three yelled, "Cell phones on the ground in front of you. Let's go!" and the sound of them racking the slides on their guns was loud and intimidating. Everyone rushed to comply with the demand. "Everyone who works here, line up behind the counter!" came the next order. "Let's go, come on move! _Go!"_

Watching every angle on the big screens back at ops, Hetty, Eric, and Nate saw Sam jump out of his car and run to the front door and look in. Sam could see and hear the "robbers" starting to usher the employees to the back. Kensi was on the ground, with blood soaking her shirt. She looked to be in absolute agony. Later he'd have to congratulate her on such an outstanding acting job.

"Eric, I'm going around the back," he informed and took off full sprint.

"Alright Sam. I'm going to disable the fire alarm and locks so you can get inside the bank's emergency exit," Eric replied back and started rapidly typing on the keyboard in front of him.

Hetty and Nate went back to watching the front of the bank as Bernhart yelled more orders, "Do not look at me, do not look at my colleagues if you want to live. Do you understand?" he looked back to Callen and Renko. "Let's go!" Renko looked at his watch, "Two minutes!" he reported and he and Bernhart hurried to the back. Hetty was standing less than a foot from the screen. She had a feeling that something was going to go wrong, or already had as she watched Callen stalking around the room, pretending to 'stand guard' and Kensi writhing slightly on the ground. Hetty wondered why Kensi was still acting that much if everyone in the room was in on the plan.

"Speak to me Eric," she commanded. Nate didn't fail to pick up on the tense edge she was radiating.

"LAPD is on their way," he reported.

Hetty didn't reply and continued to watch the screen. Curtis had just punched Connor Lavery and now Curtis was shoving the bank manager forward to go to his office. Maybe Eric wouldn't be able to get ahold of the money and the Raiders would end up getting it. That might be why her gut was churning with unease.

"Approaching back door!" Sam informed and Hetty snapped back to the present. "The door's locked Eric!"

"Hold on," Eric replied calmly, "It looks like the bank upgraded their security system last month. I'm gonna need some time to work my way around it and breach their server…"

"As quick as you can," Sam's urgent attitude was noted by all.

Meanwhile, the two bank employees were transferring the money to Istanbul. Sam and Eric were going back and forth over the locked door. Finally there was a, "It's done, let's go," from Renko. Callen surveyed the front of the bank one last time and stepped over Kensi. There was more blood than there should have been, he noted. He was sure that they hadn't placed _that_ many blood packets on her. He dismissed it, which was out of character for him, but he wasn't Callen right now. He quickly went to the rendezvous point with his colleagues and they hurried down the hall to the emergency exit.

Sam burst through the emergency exit door shouting, "Get down!" and firing blanks. Curtis ducked and everyone else engaged in a fake firefight. Hetty wasn't focused on that. She was looking at the screen shot of the front of the bank where Kensi was. Something wasn't right.

"Eric, zoom in on Kensi," she commanded. The techie, while confused, did as he was told. Hetty drew in a breath from astonishment as a single tear fell from her junior agent's eye.

"Oh my God," Nate murmured. "She was really shot,"

After a few seconds, Eric reported softly, "I've got an ambulance already on the way,"

"Call Callen. Tell him Bernhart shot Kensi for real," Hetty commanded; she was already out of the room when she finished. Eric immediately started dialing.

Sam, Callen, Renko, and Bernhart were exchanging thanks and gratitude in the back hallway as Curtis had just run out. They were all smiling slightly and shaking hands. When they were done, Renko and Bernhart jogged back to the front of the bank. Callen's cell phone rang.

"Okay everybody, this operation has concluded. Many thanks to all of you at the LAPD for your help with this op. Remember the bank employees do not know that this was an undercover op. They've all been transported back to the precinct for questioning," Renko called as he and Bernhart entered the main area. There was a collective groan as everyone stood up and started congratulating one another.

Renko strolled over to where Kensi still lay on the ground. A satisfied smile was plastered on his face. Her eyes were shut tight for reasons unknown to him. He prodded her leg gently with boot and when her eyes shot open he extended a hand to help her up. She didn't take it.

"Great job kiddo, you were really…" his voice trailed off as he realized the blood was real, as well as the pain in her eyes. "Callen! Sam!" he shouted over his shoulder. It was unnecessary. The two agents had just sprinted into the room and over to them. The three crowded on the floor around their fallen agent. Very similarly to when Callen was shot, Sam cradled Kensi against his chest.

"It's been close to five minutes," Renko stated needlessly. They all knew how long it'd been.

Callen interrupted him, "Hetty figured it out a couple of minutes ago and Eric already has an ambulance on the way. You're gonna be fine Kensi," he gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

"Don't do this to us Kensi," Sam pleaded as he put pressure on the wounds.

"Where's Bernhart?" Callen asked Renko before returning his attention to Kensi, "How are you holding up?"

"No idea," Renko admitted.

"Find him," Callen all but hissed. "He can't have gotten far, his window was small,"

"Yeah but he knew that. If I were him I'd be taking the biggest advance lead possible," Sam muttered as Renko darted off to find the detective.

"Sam…" Kensi managed to croak.

"Yeah?" he replied, but inside relief was flooding through him.

"The bracelets didn't work," she mumbled, struggling to stay focused and awake.

Callen looked from Kensi to Sam for some kind of explanation and Sam almost laughed. _That's our girl_ he thought. She was fighting, and had enough of herself left to joke slightly about the situation. It didn't console him much though. She'd taken as many shots as Callen had (though not in the chest, thank goodness) but the difference here was the delay in the time between being shot and receiving medical attention. Callen had (by this time) been on his way to the hospital whereas Kensi had already lost a lot of blood and it was at least five minutes before help arrived.

Callen's cell phone rang again. "What?" he answered, not in the mood for anything other than stellar news.

"Um, we have a problem,"

"Eric, I do not want to hear those words," Callen informed, "How big is this problem?"

"Really big. As in… Bernhart was waiting for someone to come after him so the second he saw Renko he emptied an entire clip trying to shoot him. Unfortunately, he succeeded. Renko's down,"

"He's alive though… right?"

"Probably not for long," Eric admitted, and then continued before Callen could interrupt, "Bernhart escaped and I haven't been able to locate him yet."

Callen swore profusely, an explicit mix of Russian and English that would make even the most hardened person cringe. The remaining LAPD officers were finally starting to realize what had happened, but were staying a good ten feet back.

"I've got another ambulance on the way but…"

"But what, Eric?" Callen put every bit of self-control and patience he had into not lashing out at the techie, who was only doing his job. None of this was his fault.

"Renko needs some serious medical attention. He took at least six, if not more, rounds to the torso. The second ambulance might not get there in time. It's gonna be five to ten minutes,"

"What are you saying?" Callen asked slowly. He had a pretty good idea, but prayed to whoever was listening that Eric was talking about something completely different.

"G," Sam called softly. Callen looked down and saw that Kensi had passed out. He released his hold on her hand and stood up.

"Eric, put Nate on the phone," Callen demanded. There were a few shuffling noises and then-

"Callen, you know what he's saying," Nate accused before the senior agent had time to speak.

Putting off a response, Callen spoke to Sam first, "Renko's hurt. Stay with Kensi- tell her to keep fighting." Sam nodded and Callen quickly walked towards the front doors.

"Nate, I can't make that decision,"

"Look, Callen, I know how hard-"

"Hetty is operations manager. Why can't she make it?" Callen wondered as he stepped outside, "Where's Renko?"

"About a quarter mile down the street to your left," Nate informed as he watched the screen, "Hetty's on her way to the bank now."

"You didn't answer my question," Callen was running, anxious to find Renko. He didn't dare to hope that Eric was wrong in his diagnostic. He knew that in all probability the reality would be worse than what Eric had said.

"I don't know, Callen. I don't know why she can't make the decision. Whatever the reason, you're the one in charge there. You've got two, maybe three minutes if you're lucky. It has to be decided…"

"Nate…" Callen had finally reached Renko. He supposed that this was how he'd looked when he'd been shot back in May. He crouched next to the agent and felt for a pulse. He could hear the wail of sirens screaming as they drew closer. His time was up. He had to decide.

Who received medical treatment first? Mike or Kensi? The one he chose would probably be fine. The other… his or her already slim survival chance would be cut by about half. He was being asked to sentence one of his agents (and friends, to be honest) to death. At least it felt that way.

"Callen we need your answer." Nate pleaded.

He hesitated before replying, "Renko. Renko first."

**/**

**A/N: Sorry to leave you all hanging, but if I put everything in this chapter it would go on for ages… I'm going to update this by next Sunday. To those of you who read my other stories, those will be updated by then as well. Please review- any and all comments and suggestions, etc. are welcome! Much love (and virtual hugs3) to those who do! (Maybe even a preview of the next chapter…? *hint*hint*) **

**Peace(;  
>Darlin24<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

"Renko. Renko first," Even as he said the words, Callen couldn't quite hear or interpret them. He was having an out of body experience. This wasn't happening. As soon as he said the words however, he wanted to take them back- to snatch them out of the air. Not because he wanted to get Kensi medical attention first (although he certainly wanted her to get help ASAP), but because saying them made this situation definite and final and perhaps scariest of all: _real_.

Until Callen had made that decision, this could have all be a dream. A horrible nightmarish sort of dream, but a dream nonetheless. Once he did make the decision, it was like a slap in the face telling him to confront what was happening. He did so with no emotion as always.

"Come on, Renko," he said, "Don't give up on me," The agent's pulse was faint, but was still there.

The ambulance turned onto the street and stopped in front of where Callen was crouched next to Renko. Two male paramedics were at Renko's side in a flash, rattling off stats and observations and hurling questions at Callen that they didn't give him time to answer before lifting him onto a stretcher and loading him into the back of the ambulance.

"His name is Mike Renko, he's a federal agent," Callen supplied as he watched the first paramedic start hooking up an IV to the aforementioned. The second paramedic was hurriedly scribbling down the info Callen was giving him. "The bullets are 9 mm rounds. His blood type is A positive,"

"Got it,"

Callen grabbed the EMT's arm as he moved to jump into the back, "I'm gonna see him again right? Alive?"

"I couldn't say with any degree of certainty…"

"Then promise me. That's my agent. Tell me he's not going to die and I'll get to see him alive at least one more time," Callen requested forcefully.

"I promise,"

**/**

"Renko's hurt. Stay with Kensi- tell her to keep fighting," Callen instructed and was gone just as quickly as he'd given the order.

"You heard G, keep fighting," Sam murmured to Kensi.

He tried to tell himself that he wasn't worried and she' d be fine because the ambulance should be there any minute but if he was being honest with himself, he was scared to death. She'd lost a lot of blood. And now, the fact that Renko was hurt complicated matters even further. Sam hoped that Renko wasn't hurt too badly and Eric was just having Callen check on him as a precaution.

But Renko was tough; he was a fighter like Kensi. There weren't many reasons why he would need help of any kind. Logic and a strong ominous feeling told Sam that the younger agent was hurt badly. He didn't know if he could handle Kensi or Mike (or both) dying. Certainly not so soon after Dom went missing- he was still trying to completely get over that.

Making sure that Kensi was still breathing and still had a pulse, Sam allowed his mind to wander. Maybe their luck had finally run out. Maybe that was what was giving him such a troubling feeling. Callen never should have lived after being shot in the chest last May. But he did, miraculously, and was back to work a month before he should have been. Then, he and Callen had both narrowly escaped being shot by Lee Wuan Kai. After that they'd all decided brilliantly to chase a perp through an oil rig while firing shots occasionally. The next week Callen infiltrated that militia group and Sam had to go and save him. Hetty ripped them a new one after that incident…

And when Abby Sciuto came to visit and track the phantom, they'd thought for sure that they'd used up all their luck. They'd saved her by mere seconds. Then of course there was Dom's disappearance. Until Sam saw with his own eyes and felt the cold skin beneath his hands, he would refuse to believe that Dom was dead. Because the people who took him hadn't made any demands, and they hadn't found his body, Sam believed he was still alive. Dom couldn't have been taken for personal reasons because he was too young and new to have enemies.

Sam couldn't forget what had happened just days ago at the mall. Callen had almost died from Botulinum poisoning and was saved only due to Sam himself tackling him into the koi fountain and injecting him with the antidote. In retrospect, most of their luck was used for keeping Callen alive. Sam prayed that his partner's inability to thrive hadn't run out the team's supply of uncanny flukes, blessings, and good fortune.

_Speak of the devil_… Sam thought sardonically as his partner entered the bank again, looking more frenzied and harried than when he'd left. Callen quickly strode over to where Sam and Kensi were. That's when Sam realized how long it had been and how much time had passed. Where was the ambulance?

"What's going on, G.?" Sam asked as he fought to keep his emotions under control. How did Callen do it all the time?

"Renko was shot by Bernhart. Six or seven times is my guess. There was too much blood to be certain. Ambulance just took him," he interlaced his fingers with Kensi's and whispered, "I'm sorry," Sam gave him a look of concern so Callen explained, "Renko is worse than I was in May. I told Nate and Eric to get him medical attention first. I didn't want to make the decision. But I had too,"

Sam swore, which was out of character for him. "Okay, well how long until Kensi gets help? I think she's lost at least three or four pints of blood."

"I don't know. Hopefully soon," Callen glanced at his watch, "Less than five minutes hopefully," He looked at Sam. Sam couldn't read the emotion in his partner's eyes, but it was something along the lines of pleading.

"She'll be fine," Sam assured, not sure if he was talking to himself or his partner.

"I hope so. Because if she dies, it's my fault," The words that escaped from Callen's lips were so soft that Sam wasn't certain if he'd even heard them.

Distantly, the sound of the ambulance's siren screamed as it drew nearer. Within two minutes, two paramedics were transferring Kensi from the ground to a stretcher and rattling off stats and observations uncannily like the ones who'd taken Renko. Again, they asked questions in rapid-fire succession and gave Sam and Callen no time to answer. So, Callen simply started to rattle off basic info.

"She's Kensi Blye and she's a federal agent. _My_ federal agent," Callen informed. "9 mm bullets, blood type O positive,"

He stepped in front of the EMTs and Sam followed suit. They were blocking their path out of the bank thereby forcing them to listen to what was about to be said.

"What are her chances?" Callen inquired.

"I don't know, I couldn't tell you…" one of the paramedics replied, obviously agitated with being held up.

"Promise us we'll get to see her alive again," Sam replied simply.

The paramedic who'd just been annoyed with them immediately softened. He made direct eye contact with Callen and Sam in turn, something that most people never did. "I promise. You will."

With those assuring words (that didn't do much to quell Sam and Callen's concern), the two agents stepped aside and allowed the EMTs to leave, taking Kensi with them.

**/**

"BP 60 over 40, pulse is 50 BPM. O2 stats at 90- we need to intubate," the first paramedic reported and reached for the proper equipment.

The second rattled off. "I've got three pints of O positive ready for transfusion,"

"Put them on the rapid infuser!" the other commanded as he inserted the tube into the unconscious agent's throat. "We need to control the blood loss or the blood you're adding now will just bleed right back out!"

"On it Sikes…"

"We're going to need a trauma one OR as soon as we arrive," Sikes realized, not sure if one would be ready much less prepped. "There's massive, massive internal damage from the bullets…" he reached for the radio.

"What do you have?" the operator stationed at the hospital asked.

"Multiple GSW victim in need of a Trauma One OR. We're-"

"Oh crap, BP and pulse just dropped to-" the second interrupted, but was interrupted himself with the loud, obnoxious whine of the heart rate monitor flat lining.

"Charge the paddles to 360!" was the immediate response from Sikes as he dropped the radio.

"Charging… clear!" _Thump. _"Nothing! Charging to 400!"

Sikes swore. "This agent is not dying, Donnelly! Not on our watch!"

"Clear!" _Thump._

"Charge the paddles to 450!"

_Thump._

"Still nothing!"

"Then charge them again dammit!"

"Charging…" Donnelly said, almost uncertainly. "Clear!"

_Thump. _

"475!"

"We need to call it, Sikes…"

"I said charge the paddles to 475! I promised him that he'd get to see his agent one more time!"

"Charging… clear!"

_Thump. _

Nothing.

**/**

"We need a blood transfusion, Fletcher, - fast!"

"I know, I know I'm on it Weatherly,"

"Damn. I'd never live if I had this much lead in me," Weatherly observed as he started an IV in the unconscious agent's arm.

"Well you're not a federal agent. These guys are hardcore," Fletcher remarked dryly and started the blood transfusion.

"BP is 80 over 60. BPM is 60. O2 stats at 97- surprisingly," Weatherly reported after a couple of minutes.

"Like I said, feds are pretty tough," Fletcher replied smartly.

"We're still going to need a trauma one OR the minute we get to the hospital. I'll radio it in," Weatherly grabbed the radio, "This is Weatherly, we've got a multiple GSW victim coming in in about five-ten minutes. Gonna need a T1 OR,"

"Weatherly you always seem to get GSW victims…" the man on the other end replied, "Sikes just radioed in a GSW victim of his own in need of a trauma one OR as well."

"Great," the paramedic responded sarcastically, "Well then make sure there are two available. This one's gonna need it…" Weatherly stated and replaced the radio.

"Sounds like things are a little complicated," Fletcher noted as he placed a nasal cannula under the agent's nose. Even though O2 intake levels were fine for now, it was better to be prepared for if things took a turn for the worst later. Plus, it couldn't hurt.

"Yeah, but I'm going to do everything in my power to help this agent,"

"Why is this different?" Fletcher asked, "Oh man, ribs nine and ten on the right side are broken. Looks like one of the bullet ricocheted and hit them.

"Here," Weatherly handed him a pair of forceps, "Take out the bullet if you can. Try not to damage any tissue or puncture the lung."

"That all kind of went without saying," Fletcher smirked, "You never answered my question: Why is this time different from all the rest?"

"You mean why am I so adamant about saving this agent? Because I promised," he answered easily.

"And…?" Fletcher prodded, "Ah, damn this isn't going to work. I think the bullet lodged itself in the liver. I'm stopping. I don't want to make it worse,"

"Alright, good call. Let's just stabilize 'em enough for surgery. How's the blood transfusion coming along?" Weatherly inquired as he monitored vital stats again.

"A little more than a pint so far. You didn't respond to my 'and'," Fletcher accused.

"Get the rapid infuser going," Weatherly shook his head, trying not to laugh, "If you're so curious… I'm so resolute because I've never had someone ask me to promise them that they'd get to see their hurt loved one again," he shrugged, "BP and BPM are rising a bit,"

"That's good," Fletcher replied, "So you're steadfast decision to help this agent no matter what has nothing to do with the fact that when you go home you watch crime shows and are obsessed with them?"

"Alright maybe just a little," Weatherly admitted sheepishly, "But I'm serious about this and besides, I don't want to have to explain to… Lost the pulse!"

"I'm charging the paddles to 200… Clear!"

"Come on, come on…" Weatherly pleaded then swore, "Nothing, charge to 250!"

"Charging… clear!" _Thump_. The noise resounded throughout the small space and echoed inside Weatherly's head in particular.

"Nothing, you want me to try 300?"

"YES. What part of me telling that fed that he'd get to see his agent alive again was too subtle for you?"

Fletcher sighed at his partner's dramatics, "Charging to 300! Clear!"

_Thump._

"No!" Weatherly cried. Then he swore.

"You want to call it?"

Weatherly looked at the watch the agent was wearing. "Yeah… Time of death-"

_Beep. Beep. BeepBeepBeep. _

"Oh my God, oh my God!" Weatherly exclaimed as the heart rate monitor started broadcasting the tempo of the agent's restarted heart.

"Sounds like you're gonna make good on your promise," Fletcher grinned.

**/**

After what felt like a millennium spent waiting, a middle-aged blonde doctor entered the empty, private hospital room where Hetty, Callen, Sam, Nate, and Eric were sitting on the edge of their seats, literally.

Eric and Nate had got it wrong when they said Hetty was on her way to the bank. They'd assumed ("For what reason?" Hetty had demanded) that the bank was Hetty's destination when she left the Mission, but she was really going to the hospital. She was determined to make sure that the staff here was aware that two NCIS agents were gravelly injured and were to be given the upmost priority and care. This included making sure that two trauma one operating rooms were prepped and ready after the EMTs radioed in that they were deemed necessary for treatment. Then she'd pulled a few last strings and been able to obtain an empty exam room for her and her team to wait in.

"How are they?" came the ubiquitous response from everyone but Hetty. She remained standing next to the wall, mentally preparing herself for the worst but hoping for the best.

"I'm Doctor Eland," the woman greeted, displaying no emotion. "I have not personally attended to either of your agents, mostly because they've been in the care of surgeons and EMTs since their injuries, but I was briefed on their situations and asked to inform you all of their conditions."

"And…?" Callen prompted when she paused. He had to know if Kensi was okay, mostly because if she wasn't it was his fault. He'd said to give Renko medical care first. Not that he regretted it. But if he wanted to be honest, then Renko would have never been hurt. Callen had ordered him to go after Bernhart singlehandedly. If not for that then Renko would be sitting with them, worrying about Kensi who would have in all probability been fine in time. But because of Callen, Renko had been shot, perhaps fatally.

"There's good news and bad news," Dr. Eland said vaguely.

"Spit it out already," Sam demanded. He didn't do sitting around very well.

"I'm sorry but one of your agents didn't make it,"

**/**

**I know, I know. I'm so mean(;  
>I hope I kept it vague enough so that you didn't figure out who died. And yes, unfortunately, someone did die. <strong>

**On a positive note, I am in love with every single person who left me a lovely review. I opened my email and it was flooded with praise. I started jumping around and screamed into my pillow multiple times. THANK YOU! **

**Since you were all so nice with the reviews and I was so mean with the cliffhanger, if you review I'll give you a preview of the next chapter. Next chapter won't be a cliffy, I promise!**

**I have Driver's Ed this week (kill me now…) so I don't know if I'll be able to update next Sunday, but I'll do my best(:  
>If I don't update Sunday it will probably be early next week. <strong>

**Oh, and remember how in the last chapter when I said I'd update Sunday? Technically it's still Sunday (for another 1.2 hours anyway) so I didn't break my promise haha(;**

**Lots of Love (and a sneak preview!) to those who review,  
>Darlin24<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Please note that things in italics are flashbacks.**

"_Charge the paddles to 450!"_

_Thump._

"_Still nothing!"_

"_Then charge them again dammit!" _

"_Charging…" Donnelly said, almost uncertainly. "Clear!" _

_Thump. _

"_475!" _

"_We need to call it, Sikes…" _

"_I said charge the paddles to 475! I promised him that he'd get to see his agent one more time!" _

"_Charging… clear!" _

_Thump. _

_Nothing. _

Sikes couldn't help but keep replaying what had happened in his head. He sat on the floor with his back to the wall, just outside the room Dr. Eland had entered. He'd followed her inconspicuously and once she was inside, he moved so he could hear what was going on inside. It was his fault. He had to hear the reactions; he had to hear their pain. He deserved it. He had to psychologically torture himself.

He still couldn't believe it. Besides the fact that he'd let someone die on his watch, he'd broken his word to a federal agent. Wasn't that a crime? Couldn't he go to jail for that? He deserved no less, though. No one had ever died under his care. Yes, there had been close calls, but he'd always been able to get the person through it. And yes, people had died once they'd arrived at the hospital after being in his care, but nothing like this had happened.

"_Charging… clear!"_

_Thump. _

_Nothing. _

"_Sikes…"_

"_I know," he replied shortly. "Gone,"_

Sikes heard Dr. Eland talking from inside the room. He heard her deliver the awful news. He didn't hear any sound that might have suggest that they were upset and grieving. It puzzled and exasperated him. Why couldn't they just be upset? Why couldn't they be properly upset so that he could hurt?

/

"I'm sorry but one of your agents didn't make it," Dr. Eland informed solemnly.

It seemed as though an icy chill settled over the room. Nate and Eric exchanged fearful glances. Hetty drew in a breath. Sam glanced at his partner and saw that Callen had clenched his jaw closed, and set his lips in a tight line.

"Who?" Callen asked tersely.

"There was just no way they could have survived," she continued, "Taking that many shots in the chest is almost guaranteed a death sentence, but at point blank range? Death was inevitable,"

"_Who_?" Callen repeated, taking a step closer to the doctor. If she didn't give them a straight answer within the next three seconds, he was going to resort to force.

"Special Agent Mike Renko," she answered, "I'm sorry,"

"Oh my God," Callen muttered. Was it revolting that he felt the teensiest bit relieved that it wasn't Kensi who'd died? It sickened him to think that. He should be feeling 100% guilt and remorse. There shouldn't be even a hint of relief! He was a terrible person.

"We understand," Sam managed. Everyone else seemed to be at a loss for words. "What about our other agent, Special Agent Blye?"

"She's out of surgery and in intensive care. She's being sedated for the pain and probably won't be awake for a good 6 or 7 hours. You can visit her though, one or two at a time,"

"And Renko?" Hetty inquired, dismissing the "one or two at a time" comment. When Hetty had come to the hospital to inform the staff of the high priority NCIS patients that would be coming in, she also pulled some strings so that there wouldn't be a limit to how many visitors would be allowed in the rooms. That way all of them could be in there at once.

"Hospital morgue,"

At those words, Callen strode out of the room abruptly. His head was down and he didn't make eye contact with any of his team. He had to get out of there. Not to see Kensi, but to see Mike. He was Callen's friend and he was dead because of him. Just because Callen wasn't the one to pull the trigger, it didn't make him any less responsible for Renko's death.

When he exited the room, he almost tripped over someone. Callen righted himself as the person he'd stumbled over stood up hastily. An awkward silence fell.

"Uh, sorry" Callen muttered. Slowly he took in the other's appearance. He looked very familiar. Suddenly it clicked. "You're one of the paramedics from-"

"Yeah. Look, I'm so sorry about your agent. I tried everything, I-"

Callen raised a hand to cut him off. "Don't apologize. It's not your fault. I stupidly sent him into the situation- it's my fault. Just… where's the morgue?"

"Basement. Look-"

"Is this the first one you've lost?" Callen interrupted.

"Yeah," Sikes admitted. "Can you tell?"

"Yes. That's not a bad thing. You're not totally desensitized."

"And you are?"

Callen considered this. "Something like that. Don't beat yourself up over losing him. The fault lies with me." With those words he walked past the EMT. He took the first stairs he came upon and just went down. They had to lead him to the basement eventually.

And they did.

He wandered the halls until he found the room marked "morgue" on the outside. Sam was leaning against the wall, waiting for him. Callen didn't ask how his partner had gotten there before him. He merely raised an eyebrow.

"It's not your fault, G," Sam said. Callen crossed his arms, waiting for his partner to continue.

"Renko could've said no. He could've gone a different way and not run into Bernhart. Hell, if you want to get technical, we could've planned for you or Renko to shoot Kens instead of Bernhart. There are so many details and decisions and a bunch of other crap that made what happened… happen,"

"The major decision being mine. My decision to tell Renko to find Bernhart. Alone. Without backup." Callen ground out. "In the end, it's all about me. My decision. So yeah, Sam, it kind of is my fault,"

"No it's not. Like I said, we could have planned for you or Renko to shoot Kensi. We could've-"

"But we didn't! We didn't do any of those things Sam! What we did do was let Bernhart shoot Kensi and then I made Renko go after the asshole alone! I made the decision that ultimately was the reason he died! Bernhart shot and killed Renko because I told him to follow Bernhart! If I hadn't then we'd all be upstairs with Kensi right now! Instead you and I are down here with a dead agent- a friend- while everyone else is upstairs hoping for Kensi to wake up soon!"

"I'm going to say this once, so you had better listen damn well, G," Sam started. "You did not pull the trigger. You did not kill Renko. You did not shoot Kensi. You did not cause any of this. It's not your fault. Got it?"

Callen just glared at his partner, but behind the angry façade he was putting up, Sam could see the vague forming of tears. His phone buzzed. He clicked open the new message. It was from Eric.

"Kensi's awake,"


	4. Chapter 4

You know when you're really deep asleep and you're alarm is going off so you're trying to wake up, but it's like you're stuck in sludge and can't? And you end up in a half-conscious state where you're unable to move but you're vaguely aware of what's happening around you? You can feel, and you can hear, but you can't move. You're just stuck in that weird half-awake, half-asleep phase and sometimes it bothers you to no end but other times you're weirdly glad that you're petrified. Because while you know what's going on around you, you can't ever really get a grasp on _why _it's happening. You know that feeling, right?

Well that's how Special Agent Kensi Blye felt right now.

She could feel pain in her torso (mainly from her abdomen) and she could hear a beeping noise somewhere to her left. She felt something over her face but no matter how much she fought and willed herself, she couldn't fully wake up to yank the thing off her face. She couldn't move, period. It was killing her. Her mind was conscious and giving orders but her body wouldn't (or couldn't- a scary thought) comply, much less respond in any way.

It was like a giant oppressive weight of darkness was pressing against her entire body. If she could panic she would. And Kensi Blye _never_ panics. Even though she was mentally alert, there was a serenity about it; she couldn't be mad or upset or have any other emotion.

This pissed her off to no end.

After a few minutes (or seconds, or perhaps days or months- time was nonexistent) of extreme willpower and struggle, she jerked to consciousness. The beeping noise had almost doubled and she instinctively ripped whatever it was on her face off. It was a breathing mask, which she promptly tossed to the ground. She was on total autopilot, not taking much time to take in her surroundings. She was in an unknown place, for an unknown amount of time, with unknown people, and unknown injuries. All she needed to know was the quickest way out of here and back home. When she stood she realized that she'd been stuck with two needles- one in the crook of her left elbow, and one on the back of her hand. She quickly removed them and began moving for the door.

Kensi's heart was racing. Her adrenaline was pumping. Her mind was going a million miles a minute trying to take everything in, but she was still unable to really process what was going on. The glass door that she'd been heading for (it was the easiest exit) slid open and a woman in blue scrubs entered, seeming alert, smart, and kind all at once. She was followed by an extremely short woman who looked like she could easily take care of herself. Hetty. Kensi stopped. Scrubs? Unless she was in a government testing lab (a highly unlikely but still probable option), the situation seemed to only fit one scenario: she was in a hospital.

For what, though? She knew she was hurt, but how did she get hurt, and how serious were her injuries?

The woman in blue scrubs eyed her warily and concernedly. She seemed to be a master of displaying contradictory emotions at the same time. After a few seconds, the shorter of the two spoke.

"Agent Blye, might I ask what on Earth has possessed you to get out of bed, rip out your IVs, and remove your oxygen mask?"

"I- what? Why am I here?" Kensi choked out. Her voice was rough and only slightly audible. She hated that she sounded so weak. "Who are you?" she asked in a stronger voice. _That's better_ she thought.

"This is one of the nurses who works the intensive care unit," Hetty answered.

"Cameron," the nurse smiled tightly, "And I really should inform Doctor Eland of this so if you don't mind me stepping out for one second…?" she said and left, though she kept Kensi in her line of sight.

"Miss Blye, do you not recall being shot?"

"Is that what happened?" Kensi replied, unconsciously pressing her hands to her stomach.

The other woman nodded. "I'm afraid so,"

"I don't remember,"

"That's perfectly alright my dear," Hetty replied in a soothing tone.

"But I… who…" she tried stringing words together but it wasn't working. "Who… who are you?"

Hetty drew in a breath and pressed her lips into a line. When she opened her mouth, it wasn't kind words that came out.

"I'm going to personally kill that damn cop,"

"I- I beg your pardon? Who are you going to kill?" Kensi shook her head, "I don't understand,"

Suddenly Cameron was back in the room. "Doctor Eland is on her way up. Let's get you back into bed, okay Agent Blye? I'll restart the IVs and when Doctor Eland gets here we can go from there," she smiled and guided Kensi toward the hospital bed she'd just vacated. Kensi complied, mainly because she was even more lost now than she was before she woke up and wasn't in much of a position to do much of anything at the moment.

"I still don't understand," Kensi spoke clearly and levelly as Cameron stuck the IVs back into her arms.

"Don't understand what?" Hetty replied.

"Am I supposed to know you? Who is the cop you're going to kill? And-" Kensi paused, deciding whether or not to ask her next question, "Where's my team?"

"Your team?" Hetty asked in return. She wanted to clarify her suspicions.

And just like that, Kensi shut up. She didn't give any further information. She'd already said too much.

"Miss Blye?"

Kensi didn't reply. She'd already given out too much information. Callen and Sam were going to kill her (figuratively of course).

Hetty sighed in resignation and within the next two minutes, Dr. Eland came walking into the room at a brisk pace. Nate and Eric were following close behind. They hid slight smiles at the fact that Kensi was awake and okay.

"Hey Kens," Nate greeted as Dr. Eland began checking over her vitals and conversing rapidly with Cameron.

"Nate," she exhaled in relief. _Finally_, people she knew. People she trusted. "Eric,"

Hetty furrowed her brow in concern. Why did Kensi remember the guys, but not her?

"Agent Blye," Dr. Eland interrupted, "You weren't supposed to wake up for quite a few more hours. Are you in any kind of pain?"

"NO, I was just shot in the freaking chest,"

"I meant," Dr. Eland replied patiently, "Excruciating pain, unbearable pain. Pain that would cause you to overpower the narcotics you were given."

Kensi gave her a look that was somewhere between glaring and incredulity but she said nothing.

"Alright," Dr. Eland sighed in resignation. "Well other than the fact that you were 'shot in the freaking chest' you seem fine for now," Although she gave no recognition of the fact, Kensi liked her attending doctor. She liked the fact that she was throwing back Kensi's sarcasm back at her with a straight face. Dr. Eland and Cameron left the room.

"I'm guessing that if I asked how you were feeling then you'd probably hit me?" Eric asked with a smile.

"Yup," she grinned. "Where are Sam and Callen?" her brow creased.

"Present," Callen said as he and his partner entered the room. Their conversation had been put on hiatus so they could make sure their junior agent was okay.

"I thought you weren't supposed to be up for a while," Callen said, cocking an eyebrow.

"Neither were you when you got shot," Sam nudged his partner playfully. "You woke up days before they thought you would,"

"And I was in a hell of a lot of pain. You should've told them to knock me out. If they refused you should've hit me yourself," Callen replied dryly.

Sam rolled his eyes.

Callen could tell that Kensi was holding something back.

"Something on your mind Kens?"

She gave a small, tight-lipped smile and shook her head. "Nope. Aside from the bullet holes riddling me through like I'm Swiss cheese."

Callen wasn't convinced. He turned to Hetty with a look requesting help.

"Miss Blye doesn't recall who I am, although she seems to recognize the rest of you," Hetty answered.

Everyone's heads swiveled to face Kensi.

"So I take it I'm supposed to know her." Kensi responded slowly. "Who is she?"

"Hetty? She's… well Hetty. Operations manager?" Callen tried. He couldn't believe this. No way was part of Kensi's memory gone.

"What about Macy?" Kensi inquired.

They all exchanged looks. This was bad.

"Don't you remember being shot?" Nate asked.

"No. Well, vaguely. I remember that Sam and I were following up that lead on the Benson case."

Nate looked at Sam whose eyes had gone wide.

"The Benson case?" Nate asked uncertainly.

"Yeah." She gave a short laugh, "Wow. Callen just got out of the hospital for being shot and now I'm in the hospital for being shot… Hey, you never answered my question about where Macy is," she realized.

"Macy's gone," Sam replied. Kensi sat up straight, ignoring the screaming pain in her torso.

"What?" she exclaimed. Macy couldn't be dead- Macy was just debriefing them this morning!

"Transferred," Eric amended hastily.

"Oh…" Kensi sank back into the pillows. "What? When? Why?"

"Kens… don't freak out, but…" Nate began. She obviously had no idea she'd lost a few months of memory.

"G was shot almost a year ago," Sam interrupted.

"What? I don't-"

"Kensi, it's February." Nate told her bluntly.

"So, I've… I'm… I…" Kensi fumbled for words, completely out of character. It wasn't February; it was July!

"You've lost your memory."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: My sincere apologies! (Italics are flashbacks)**

"No," Kensi shook her head. "No, no I didn't,"

"Kensi, the Benson case was last July. It's February," Sam said.

"No, it can't be February," she disagreed.

"I'm afraid so, Kensi. But it's completely common after a traumatic-" Nate began but she cut him off.

"Shut up, Nate,"

"Well she didn't lose her personality," Callen murmured to Sam, who rolled his eyes at his partner.

"Kensi, I'm only trying to reassure you," Nate continued in his calm voice.

"I don't care," she replied. What should have been a snappy response was verging on scared.

Callen intervened, taking a different tactic than their psychologist. "What is the last thing you remember before being shot?"

"Um, Sam and I had just arrived at the bank where Benson received the wire transfer for the fifty grand. We couldn't get the bank to agree to release its security tapes without a warrant. So we were just going to have Eric hack into their servers to get them. But then there was a car… a sedan maybe? The passenger had a handgun and… that's where it goes blank," Kensi explained slowly, mostly due to the fact that the sedatives and anesthesia were still in her system and she had to really fight to stay coherent.

Sam's eyes flickered in recognition. He remembered that day. He knew what she was talking about.

"_Guess we'll just have to get a warrant then," Kensi smiled, "Thanks for your time,"_

_The two turned to leave. _

"_Guess we'll just have to get Eric to hack into the system," Sam muttered. _

_Kensi laughed. "Shh! What if they hear you?" she joked. _

"_Not like they can do much about it," Sam smiled down at the junior agent. He pushed open the banks heavy door and the two started down the sidewalk towards the Charger. They were almost there when a speeding blue sedan came around the corner, resulting in a lot of honking horns and frustrated shouts from drivers. _

"_I can't stand when people don't know how to drive," Kensi noted. _

_Sam raised an eyebrow. "Is present company exclude-Get down!" he shouted and tackled Kensi to the ground just as bullets whizzed by her head. The driver and passenger of the blue sedan had stopped and were firing at the silver SUV behind which Sam and Kensi had taken cover. The two quickly regrouped and got their weapons and identification out. As soon as they jumped out from behind their makeshift shelter, the sedan started peeling away, wheels spinning rapidly as they tried to grab onto the ground. _

_Kensi and Sam both fired multiple shots at the car while noting the absence of a license plate. The passenger suddenly leaned out and fired three more shots in quick succession. The two NCIS agents dove for cover again. When they landed, Sam took a few seconds to catalogue himself for injuries (there were none) before turning to his partner. Kensi was on her back, clutching at her forearm in surprise. There was blood. A fire burned with white-hot intensity where the bullet had hit. _

_Roughly an hour later (after having been given morphine among other things) Kensi learned that she'd been lucky; the bullet had only grazed her arm, scooping out a nice chunk of flesh and a little muscle without harming any nerves. She'd be out for a couple weeks but other than that she was fine. _

"Kensi, you were shot in the arm in July and it was just a flesh-wound," Sam reminded.

She wrinkled her brow as she struggled to put two and two together. She could see the faint scar from the shooting Sam was referring to and she could feel the pain in her chest where she was obviously shot more than once. She kept coming up with three for her answer.

"Then what… now…" she started fumbling her words again. "Why am I blank for everything past July?" she finally managed.

"As I said, it's extremely common for people who've experienced traumatic events to lose some of their memory. Retrograde amnesia is completely normal," Nate tried again.

"So that means I'll get my memory back eventually, right?" Kensi asked, a glimmer of hope making its way into her mind.

"Most likely,"

"Okay," Kensi nodded. She could wait.

"Do you really not know anything that happened after that?" Eric inquired, half curious, half incredulous.

"NO," Kensi was exasperated, "I really don't…"

"The memories will come back in time, my dear," Hetty offered a smile but it didn't placate Kensi like it should have. She still didn't know Hetty.

This made for an awkward silence while they all acted like everything was totally fine.

"Well, I should go inform the staff and security of our plan for protection detail," Hetty said as though nothing was wrong. She left and Kensi, who'd been slightly on edge, relaxed.

"So what's my protection detail like?" Kensi wondered.

"There's not one," Callen answered opaquely before elaborating, "Since the only potential adversary we're concerned with is Bernhardt, we're letting hospital security handle it. We're giving them his picture and stuff. Besides, there's a possibility that he thinks you're dead. And even if he thinks you're alive, walking in here would be suicide,"

"Who's Bernhardt?" Kensi cocked her head.

"The one who shot you," Sam reminded.

"He's the damn cop that your boss is going to kill," Cameron chimed in as she reentered.

"Okay. Hetty is our boss and Bernhardt is the cop who shot me," Kensi repeated. "LAPD?"

"Yup," Sam confirmed. "May we help you?"

"Actually I was going to ask you all to leave. I've just been told to administer some morphine and a mild sedative. Agent Blye needs to rest,"

Sam and Callen pursed their lips and semi-reluctantly agreed. Nate and Eric stepped out and the two agents followed. As Callen was crossing the threshold he suddenly stepped back, which made Sam stop as well.

Callen asked, "You sure you're good?"

"I'm good,"

****NCIS:LA**NCIS:LA**NCIS:LA**NCIS:LA**NCIS:LA**NCIS:LA**NCIS:LA**NCIS:LA**NCIS:LA****

**NCIS:LA**NCIS:LA**NCIS:LA**NCIS:LA****

Over the next week or so, Kensi was repeatedly given painkillers and sedatives to the point where she was only awake about 40-50% of the time. Callen, Nate, Sam, Eric, and Hetty all made frequent visits but she was rarely awake. When she was, she tired easily and was only semi-coherent.

The team was concerned for her well-being but was most concerned and preoccupied with two other things.

The first of course, was Renko. After leaving Kensi's room that first day, Callen had gone down to pay his respects and say his good-byes.

"_I'm sorry, Mike," he whispered. "You didn't deserve this. No one will let me say this without getting onto me for it but it's my fault. I did what I could to help you but it wasn't enough. I'm sorry. You were one hell of an agent and one of my friends._

_We're going to get Bernhardt, I promise you. If it's the last thing I do, if I have to die doing it, I _will_ get him and bring him to justice."_

They held a small service on Kensi's fourth day of being hospitalized. Renko had wanted to be cremated, so they respected his wishes by doing so (after the autopsy of course). The first time Sam and Callen visited Kensi after the initial hospitalization they had fully intended to explain (or at least attempt to explain) what had happened at the bank, and inform her that Renko was dead. When they saw how groggy she was, they figured it would be better if they waited.

The second (and frankly the biggest) concern they had was Bernhardt. He'd gone completely off the radar after shooting Kensi and Renko. Eric tried everything but couldn't locate him. It was as if he ceased to exist. More than once, Sam and/or Callen had gone out to simply drive aimlessly hoping to see Bernhardt even though they knew the probability of seeing him was about the same of Renko coming back to life.

The fact that _Eric_ couldn't locate the cop worried them all.

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**NCIS:LA**NCIS:LA**NCIS:LA**NCIS:LA****

"Night, Callen," Kensi murmured. He tried to hide his grin at her fatigue, even after a week.

"Good night, Kensi," he leaned down and gave her a short kiss on her forehead.

"Ask Nate when I get my memory back," she requested, starting to slip back into the darkness of sleep.

"I will," he promised, "I think Eric is going to stop by in the morning,"

Kensi was already asleep. This time he did smile and flicked off the lights before leaving.

She slept for easily nine or ten hours before he came into her room. She didn't hear him; he was very quiet. He walked over to look at her heart rate monitor. With a few simple button pushes and knobs fiddling, the machine was set to keep relaying that the patient had a regular sleeping heart rate of 63 beats per minute. He stood over her for a minute before taking out his pistol.

He covered her mouth with his hand and pressed the barrel into her abdomen. Her eyes shot open in pain. Within a few seconds, she registered that an unknown man was standing over her. She didn't try and fight him; she knew that wouldn't end well and wasn't stupid (or strong) enough to try it.

"Well, Agent Blye, I have to hand it to you. You're good. You're tough. Just not good or tough enough,"

Despite the shadows, a smirk was clearly evident on Bernhardt's face.

**A/N: I'll upload a legitimate authors note tomorrow or Sunday, I'm just too tired to do so now (:  
>Review, please? I'm sorry I haven't uploaded in forever, but still…? I love you all! <strong>

**Darlin24**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I've got one this time! It's just at the end because I don't want you to have to wait any longer to read (sorry for the month long wait!) **

The waves were calling to him. At this hour of the morning, surfing conditions were awesome. The water had settled from the boats and ships and anything else from the day before and it was just the consistent rolling of waves onto the sandy beach. They were great waves too; they crested perfectly and some formed good tunnels that you could get caught inside. What he wouldn't give to be out there right now. Surfing was his favorite thing to do (even at five in the morning) and always gave him the best start to the day. He could go out and surf for an hour or more then go back home, grab a shower and head in to the office. His whole day got kick-started with that routine.

Today was a lot different though. He was driving past the ocean, not scouring for the best set, but on his way to the hospital to hang out with Kensi for an hour or so. Her sleep schedule was so screwy that there was actually a good chance she'd be awake when he got there. Actually, in an ironic sort of way, Kensi was usually awake either at dawn for a couple hours or in the evening, both pretty good surfing times, especially dawn (which was usually when he went to visit her).

The pull of the water was strong. His surfboard was on top of his car. Surely, he could paddle out for a couple waves before visiting Kensi, right? She wouldn't care if he was wet and smelled like the ocean.

_No, don't. _Eric told himself. _You said you'd go to the hospital and _if _you had time left before work, _then_ you could surf some. _

But salt water ran in his veins. He had to surf.

"Don't do it," he told himself.

After debating with himself for a few more minutes, he pulled abruptly into a small, empty parking lot at a beach access point. He sat there, car idling, while he deliberated.

"Just a few waves," he told himself. "Twenty minutes tops,"

When he made that decision, it didn't seem like stopping to surf before visiting Kensi was a bad thing; it felt right. He quickly got out and grabbed the board. He was already in a bathing suit (since he'd been planning to catch a wave or two on the way back from the hospital) so he jerked off his shirt and glasses and ran down the sandy embankment, toting the six-foot hunk of foam with him. His toes touched the water and all was well with the world. He waded in deep enough to climb onto the board and started paddling out.

A thought that had often occurred to him when he first started surfing alone in the mornings came back to him now.

It was a great time to surf- but also a great time for sharks to feed.

He didn't know why the foreboding sense suddenly struck him, but it didn't relinquish its hold.

He tried to shake it off, and when the effort proved futile, he resorted to simply pushing the worry to the back of his mind. He continued paddling, duck-diving under the waves as he went so he could get farther out without fighting as hard. After about a fifth of a mile, he decided that he was pushing his luck already and resolved to try and get a few good waves as fast as possible so he could head back.

It was only a couple of minutes before he found the first one he wanted. Many more came after that. The rides were fantastic. He didn't try anything fancy; he just needed the pure adrenaline rush that came from catching a solid wave. When he realized half an hour had passed, he sighed wistfully but began paddling back into shore. The niggling suspicion that something wasn't quite right moved back to the forefront of his mind.

****NICS:LA**NCIS:LA**NCIS:LA**NCIS:LA**NCIS:LA****NICS:LA**NCIS:LA**NCIS:LA**NCIS:LA**NCIS:LA****

Kensi remained silent. She wasn't going to give whoever this was the satisfaction of asking his name; she couldn't see his face and didn't recognize the voice. She wouldn't scream either even though she could feel the stitches straining against her skin like they could pop at any moment due to the gun pressed into her stomach.

Bernhardt cocked his head to the side. "I sense some confusion. You do know who I am, right?"

Kensi just glared. Bernhardt threw his head back and laughed.

"I'm hurt," he drawled sardonically. "How could you forget me?"

Still, she was quiet. What time was it anyway? Morning- she could see slight rays of sun peeking through the curtains. Wasn't Eric supposed to be here soon? Had he already come while she was asleep? No, she would have felt his presence and woken up, right? Well, maybe not. Maybe he'd been here already. She hoped he was on his way. Oh, her brain hurt from running in endless circles.

"Agent Blye, I hope you've never been given the title of 'Agent of the Year'. To be honest, this is pretty sad. What kind of agent can't remember who shot them?" he paused for a moment, "You should be having nightmares about me,"

"I don't have nightmares." She retorted.

"Is that so? Well we can change that,"

****NICS:LA**NCIS:LA**NCIS:LA**NCIS:LA**NCIS:LA****NICS:LA**NCIS:LA**NCIS:LA**NCIS:LA**NCIS:LA****

Eric pursed his lips as he drove. The closer he got to the hospital, the stronger his ominous feeling grew. So naturally, the harder he pressed on the accelerator. He'd definitely not meant to spend as much time out in the water as he had. He was going to catch it later. When he got to the hospital he quickly parked and made his way along the familiar route to the intensive care unit.

It was eerily quiet when he got there. There were no nurses or doctors present. As he passed other rooms on his way to Kensi's, he could see patients (most of them asleep due to the early hour) but still no doctors or nurses. There had to be some kind of explanation. Surely there was a logical reason for the lack of staff?

He couldn't think of a single one.

Eric quickened his pace and stopped outside Kensi's room. The curtain behind the sliding glass door, which was normally only pulled across halfway, now covered the entire length of the door. That was very out of the ordinary. Eric knew for a fact that even when she slept, Kensi still kept the curtain halfway. He frowned. Then slowly, and as quietly as he could manage, Eric slid the door open a fraction.

_Just do it_, he told himself. He took a deep breath (that didn't do its job of calming him) and then peeked around the corner just enough to get a view of the room. It took all of his self-control not to gasp. Bernhardt was standing over Kensi with a gun. Bernhardt's back was to Eric and Kensi was focused on the gun so neither saw the techie. He caught a few snippets of what Bernhardt was saying.

"…such a shame. But we have to cut our losses at some point, right?"

Eric withdrew himself just as stealthily as he'd peered inside the room. He took a few steps away from the room then dug his cellphone from his pocket. With fumbling fingers, he punched in Callen's number. The agent picked up after the second ring.

"Yeah Eric, what's up?"

"Callen, you and Sam need to get down to the hospital now,"

"What? Is Kensi-"

"Bernhardt is here. He's in the room with Kensi and he's armed."

Callen swore. "Okay, we're on our way. _Sam! Get the challenger!_ Eric, keep tabs on the situation. If anything happens or is about to happen, call us right away. We'll be there in ten,"

"I can do that. Oh, um, just so you know… there's no medical personnel here. It's deserted,"

"Great," Callen remarked and hung up.

Eric dropped his phone back into the shorts he'd changed into after surfing. He took off his glasses and shakily ran a hand over his face. He let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding and tip-toed back over to the door. With any luck, Bernhardt would still have his back to the door. Eric cautiously repeated the same process as earlier and looked around the curtain again.

Bernhardt continued to talk. "…could've made a clean break of it. Your friends had to complicate things."

This time Kensi chimed in, "My friends don't complicate matters. They resolve them,"

"You're exactly like them," he snarled.

_Hostage negotiation 101: Don't antagonize the captors; sympathize with them. _Eric squeezed his eyes shut and prayed that Kensi's stubbornness wasn't going to get her killed before Sam and Callen got there. He'd never wanted to be an agent before; the lifestyle didn't appeal to him at all. But now? His only wish was to be an agent for the sole reason that he would have a gun and could end it all here. As it was, he was not an agent and had no weapon of any kind. He was just the techie. Sure, Callen and Sam had trained him up a bit in self-defense, but they never taught him many offensive maneuvers because it was (supposedly) impractical and unnecessary. Besides, Bernhardt had a gun.

Suddenly, Bernhardt moved to turn around. Eric hastily moved away from the door. He stepped a few feet away again, and redialed Callen.

"Yeah, Eric," he answered before the first dial tone even ended.

"I've lost visual contact. Bernhardt's back was to the door but then he turned around. I have no idea what's going on now,"

"That's fine Eric; don't try anything risky. We're less than five minutes away," He sighed and the sound of the Challenger accelerating was heard, "Just hope that Kensi's luck will hold till then,"

"Got it," he ended the call.

Eric rubbed his temples, thinking. Callen said not to try anything risky. But what if the situation escalated to the point that Eric needed to interfere? Without his "toys" as he dubbed the computers in the ops center, he was blind. He needed eyes in the room. Attempting to look around the curtain for a third time would be unwise. Eric deliberated for a minute and finally decided it was worth a shot. He'd just take it very slowly. He crept back over to the door and listened at first, trying to gauge where Bernhardt was in the room by how his voice 'bounced'.

"Anyway, it doesn't matter now. By the time anyone realizes what has happened it'll be long over and I will be far, far away," Bernhardt took a couple of steps. "Who's the tough one now?" he challenged.

"Not me," Kensi admitted, "But it's most certainly not you either," she all-but-growled.

Eric looked up. _Why does she do these things?_ At this point, Eric decided it was worth the risk. Kensi had been pissing Bernhart off for who knows how long. He needed to see the ex-cop's reaction. He edged the curtain aside. She had a familiar glint in her mismatched eyes. Bernhardt just stared at Kensi for many long seconds. Then he smiled. Then he let out a short laugh. He raised his gun, aiming it directly at her chest. The message was clear.

It took less than ten seconds for Eric to stride into the room and knock the gun away from Bernhardt, mostly due to the element of surprise that Eric had. The tiny time frame that was opened with the shock factor rapidly closed. Soon Bernhardt and Eric were engaged in hand to hand combat. Eric surprised himself with the amount of force he managed to exert as well as the fact that it didn't bother him as much as he thought it would to hurt someone else on purpose. Another surprise that Eric received was how well adrenaline dulled the pain of being punched and hit and kicked. Pure fury and adrenaline fueled his fight.

As for Bernhardt, he had to recover from the shock before being able to fully put everything he had into the fight. He did a pretty good job though and not long after the onset he began to easily gain the upper hand, whereas before they'd been relatively evenly matched. Eric was getting beaten and he knew it. If he could just keep Bernhardt at bay long enough for Sam and Callen to get there…

The door burst open.

**A/N: Alright, now before you kill me for not updating in forever and then leaving you with a cliffhanger let me offer an exchange. First are my apologies. I had surgery at the end of September and was out of school for a week. Therefore, all of October I was making stuff up and was just totally swamped (that's why the last chapter sucked :P) So I'm very extremely sorry for that; please forgive me! Second, I have the next two chapters written. But before the next chapter gets put up, can I pretty please get at least 10 reviews? The first couple of chapters got **_**such**_** great feedback and I was ecstatic for days. I would really love and appreciate getting that kind of feedback again (:  
>And I know that there are many people who have added this to their story alerts (and a few have added me as an author alert *dies of happiness*), so please take fifteen seconds and review. Pretty please with cast members' autographs on top? <strong>

**Thank you all so much for sticking with this- I love you all!  
>Darlin24<strong>


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